Dead Mother And Other Stories
by Prairiedog
Summary: Claire deals with angst after her mother Sandra Bennet dies after Claire saves the world in New York.
1. Chapter 1

Title: Dead Mothers (And Other Stories)

Disclaimer: I don't own the characters. I play with them in this sandbox of words with everyone else.

Rating: T

Spoilers: Through 1x16 and possibly before 1x1. Probably will be AU after 'How to Stop An Exploding Man'

Summary: Claire marauds against regret after someone close to her died after 'New York'.

Couples: None

Date Started: Monday, April 16, 2007

Status: Complete

Feedback: Only positive. I'm here to be happy.

Thanks: Decadentdream, EmeraldKitten, Apckrfan.

I am Claire Bennet.

Today is the one hundredth and fifth time I remember feeling lost. Where does this come from?

It used to be I couldn't feel anything.

Now I'm so depressed. Death has changed my life. The happy days of being a self-centered brat are gone like yesterday's train and I'll never see it again. I'll never be at that place where I always thought I was okay ever again.

I grew up in that house in Odessa. Until I left it was the place where I knew I was home. It was where I belonged.

At home when I was seven I fell out of an open window of my home. It felt like I was flying and then the warm safe arms of Dad caught me.

I pushed myself so hard. I busted my butt get to win the SAT's and play for the team. I liked my safe boring life. It was Texas; then. I always had the people near me that I wanted. It was okay to me that I was adopted. I was sort of popular. I was never close to anyone outside of my family. It didn't matter; then.

Someone else always knew what to do.

Someone else could always protect me.

Then it changed.

And then no one else knew what I should do.

I wasn't protected like I was before. Now I was unbreakable.

I really was. Everything I did showed me that nothing could hurt me and that I was unbreakable.

But I wasn't.

I wanted to test myself. Find something, anything that could make me… feel. Feel something. I wanted and did lots of things then.

I knew I couldn't be hurt.

And I was.

And I boxed that hurt and it was buried deep down in the rich darkness of the dirt by another's hands.

That was just great.

I'm being ironic. I promise.

Life was great then in Odessa but I didn't appreciate it then the way I do now.

When I was so young I would walk through the grays and browns and yellows of Odessa. It was so bright and warm. I walked so I wouldn't have to think about my life and my future.

I didn't have to think about whether or not I would score high on my SAT's. I didn't have to think about my fear of not being in the team. I didn't have to think if this was even actually important to me. I didn't have to think about whether I'd move out of town or stay after graduation. I didn't have to think about my real mom and my real dad. I didn't have to think about going after my Dad for more information.

I didn't have to think about how I was pretending all the time. I was acting in front of everyone. That the girl they knew was just a big fake.

My life was a fake. I was a orphan without real parents but I could hide it. I could hide not being close to anyone except my Dad but were we ever that close? I could make the pain of being pampered and bored and over controlled go away by pretending it wasn't there. I wanted to make it hurt so that I could feel. The pain in my body or my hand if I put it down into the garbage disposal was better then the numbness I felt inside where my powers couldn't heal me.

When I was young many years before high school I pierced my ear with a paper clip from the floor of the schoolroom. I did it on a dare or so I told everyone. I really just wanted to do it. I had wanted to control my fear of pain.

And I did.

It hurt.

Later that day when I came home Dad was disappointed in me and Mom was upset until he calmed her down. And that night when I laid in my bed and stared at the boring ceiling above I felt free. I felt like for once in my over controlled life I was able to control something myself for the first time. And I felt good about that. I felt good many times when I was younger.

Especially when I hanged out with Zach. He made everything thing seem down to earth and fun at the same time.

We would walk through the undeveloped parts of town. We would walk over the dusty brown earth of the housing developments that hadn't been built yet. We would walk through the construction of new houses and pretend we lived there. I would sit on the handlebars of his bicycle and he would drive us straight down a dirt slope at the construction sites. We would go to where there were steep hills and a abandoned industrial structure where there were scary metal steps that went up and up towards the sky. We'd dare each other to go up them. He didn't do it. I didn't do it either then.

We'd always go down the nearby hills though. He would sit and pedal on the bicycle and I would be up front and we'd go down the steep slope and he'd pedal as quickly as he could and we never really got hurt badly. It was scaryfun and the wind and sun would burn me and I felt like I was flying.

And I would continue to balance my butt on those handlebars and he would pedal the bicycle and take me home. I loved Zach thoughtlessly. He was like a friend then. We would travel between the sepia grasses and the brown dirt and the beige housing of Odessa.

And I watched what looked like the road flying by and slithering underneath the wheels of the bicycle and disappearing somewhere in that space behind my head.

And sitting there on those handlebars I could be me. The real me.

The me that I wanted to be.

I could be someone that didn't have to answer to testing or teams. There was no teacher or parent to answer to. I didn't have to worry about who was popular and who wasn't. There was only the glorious power of movement pushing me forwards and the knowledge I had someone I liked with me and my home ahead of me and Dad and Mom and my brother would be waiting there for me.

It almost felt like I had a superpower. It was the superpower of being happy and without worries and moving with great speed towards a future that I wanted. I welcomed the future; then.

I was lazy then. Not about the things other people cared about but about the things that I cared about but pushed away because I thought they would hold me back. Like Mom. Or Zach. At least until we found each other years later and had sex. But enough of that I'm writing about when I was still without superpowers and still going to high school. I was still pushing him away then.

It got even worse when I got into the cheerleading squad.

The future I had found there wasn't what I thought it would be but I rushed into it anyway and put on the uniform of them. It was the uniform of my future where I was successful at what I wanted.

Dad didn't want for me to become a cheerleader originally and neither did Mom. As for my brother, well- sometimes it was like he barely existed. I persisted in pressuring my parents to let me join the squad and Dad changed his mind but Mom didn't until the next week. Mom had wanted me to study French and go to Paris my senior year instead. As if! It was strange, one day it was like she didn't want me to become a cheerleader. The next day it was as if she never remembered even wanting me not to become a member of the team.

That was when I was trying to become more popular at the high school. So I had to push Zach away. He wasn't popular. He was the anti-popular. I wanted the popular kids to accept me. They did. I wasn't as safe with them as I used to be without them but I didn't care.

I was nearly as popular as the popular kids were. I acted like it wasn't important to me.

I knew I could take care of myself. I told myself.

And now I was a cheerleader. And it was athletic and we were part of something larger then ourselves. And there was the drills and the stunts and summer camp and cute football players suddenly taking interest in us. And all of us were there for each other or we pretended to be which was nearly the same thing as long as nothing really bad happened. And we'd pressure the coach to let us try more dangerous and sexier routines.

We wanted to push the limits of what we could do. Most of our Moms supported us.

When I was with the squad I could let myself be happy. I didn't have to think about that I didn't know my real mom or dad. I felt like I was giving something to the entire community when I cheered at the games. We were giving the community spirit. And everyone sitting in the stands at the game could see all of us and they could see me and it felt like they loved all of us and that they loved me and I didn't feel abandoned by my real mom anymore.

And cheerleading sexy and it was safe. Safer then going flying dirt hills and wandering construction and industrial sites with Zach. And it was sexier then hanging out with him. Zach was so not a hunk.

It was thrilling; then.

Then we'd go to a party or I would go home. Because I had to get good grades on my SAT's even though all I wanted to do then was go out and party. I never had enough time to be a teenager or have a personal life. So I would be in the living room around the same time Sandra came home and she would watch a recording of the soap opera Guiding Light she had recorded earlier while she had been away. Then afterwards she would change the television channel to something else.

I liked Cops.

When Mom wasn't watching her soaps are talking about dogs she would do a decoupage or macramé project for a few days then it seemed like she'd forget what she was doing and then it would disappear into a closet.

We also liked going out to the movies.

In the car while we were driving to them we'd talk sometimes. She'd actually listen to me. And I'd listen to her.

Mom cared for me then and was into being there for me. We would shop together; then. Shoes. We both could bond over buying shoes together. And we'd talk and it felt like I had a real mother.

I was her daughter then.

And then the change came and we talked even less. Mom would try to talk and tell me I was special and I couldn't talk to her. I never really heard what she was saying anymore unless I wanted to.

And she wanted to be my best friend but I wanted to test my limits. I wanted to push myself. To go where I was never there before. To go where no one else had gone before. I wanted to be dangerous. I wanted to be sexy. I wanted pain. I wanted excitement. I knew I was special. Now I wanted to experience it.

And sometimes Moms get in the way of that. My Mom did.

Now I'll never hear heard it again except on an old camcorder tape where it isn't as real.

I wish I could hear her telling me that I'm special one more time.

I'd listen to her now.

Then I ignored her.

Now I make excuses for that.

Maybe I should feel guilty. But I don't.

I loved Dad more. He was doing something with his life. His life was serious and important and I was the most important person in his life or so I thought. He was a man of the world. Mom was a woman of frivolities and forgotten dreams.

Dad went out into life and he returned nearly always unscathed and his work sounded so important. I wanted to be like that.

But I had LSAT's and school and cheerleading. That was what was important to me then. Now all that seems important is the good memories I had with my real friends and Dad and Mom.

Talking with Mom was amazing. We'd get in a car and just drive. Along the way she said so many good things to me about how to live my life and how to enjoy it better. She never forced it down my throat. Mom could really crack me up with laughter when I was very young. Year after year she lost that spark. It was as if she kept misplacing it until she couldn't ever find it again.

She replaced it with trying to get me to live her dreams and things that were even less relevant to me.

Back then I didn't care that she cared for me. I didn't care that she shopped and cleaned the house and sacrificed parts of her life so that I could have one.

Then I didn't care about the sacrifices she had made in her own life to keep our family together.

Then I didn't care that she spent time in the kitchen making dinners alone. That was time I could have spent with her instead of doing stuff somewhere else.

Then I didn't care that I didn't know how to do all the girly stuff that she could.

Then I didn't appreciate the time I had with her. Then I just wanted to be something better, more interesting, and more powerful; more liked then the average boring girl I knew I was. I would do anything to become that hero.

Then I didn't care that she needed me. Mom needed me. I didn't know. I couldn't see past the exterior that she showed me.

Mom talked at me about many things. There one she didn't talk about but one I learned the best.

It was about having an exterior to hide that you were different where they couldn't see it.

It could be anything. Clothing. Wearing brand names as uniforms. Wearing uniforms as uniforms. Shoes. Taking interest in things that didn't matter to hide that we really didn't care for anything important. We had safe socially acceptable hobbies like getting drunk, doing doughnuts in the brother of your boyfriend's truck, getting pregnant at a young age. We didn't challenge anyone. We didn't challenge how things were. We did stuff that were easy for other people to like us for and so make us popular.

I'm more like Mom then I like to think.

Now that I think about it: I'm also more like my Dad then I like to think.

I liked having an exterior but I didn't like to think of myself as being mediocre as Mom. Mom cleaned up so much dirt around the house.

And Dad- well he cleaned up so much dirt in other places too.

I think sometimes that they had more 'fire in their belly' then I did. That's the way the Haitian described his perspective of them to me. Because while they faced a life that seemed dull without anything wondrous about them I have something amazing I can do at any time. It must have been so much harder for them.

So much of what I did back then seems mediocre to me now.

I think Dad was a hero in his own way then. And Mom. And Dad put on his suit and Mom put on her clothes and I put on my uniform and showed the world what I wanted to show it. And hide the changes that had made me different from everyone else underneath.

Back then cheerleading was my way of having an exterior to show the world and Mom breeding show dogs was her way of having an exterior. And Dad putting on the suit and acting like a respectable businessman was his exterior.

We all had our uniforms to put on.

Our masks to show the world what we really weren't were.

Mom didn't even have to give me any Mom Speeches about how important it was to have an exterior. To hide who you were underneath the fancy shoes. To hide the changes that made you different. Dad hid his life from us too and he didn't have to give me any speeches either on how important it was in my life to hide things even from him.

I just knew.

Then.

I wish now I had given more time with her instead of trying to go out and having a thrill. Like videotaping myself dying over and over. Mom I miss you. And then.

After she-

Oh my God after she-

She-

Mom-

Then-

Immediately afterwards-

It's so hard to write this.

I wanted-

If I were Hiro I would want to go back in time and tell myself to enjoy being a daughter instead of wanting to go out and become a hero. Because Moms don't last forever but you can be a hero every day. I didn't realize that until it was almost too late.

Now-

I hope that even now as a hero that I am still her daughter and that somewhere she knows that and still loves me and thinks of me as her daughter.

Each day I might have to risk my life. There are things that can hurt you even if you can recover from physical injuries.

I know now you can't expect your friends to live through the day with you. I know now you can't expect to be alive tomorrow even though you expected too.

I always expected my adopted Mom to be there for me.

I expected it thoughtlessly, carelessly.

I was so stupid, then.

I have a memory of this.

Before my adopted mother died but after I changed we went out shopping for shoes.

It wasn't the shopping that was important- it was what we talked about on our way there.

She said things like, "I'm so happy you're my daughter Claire." And when we reached the parking lot of the mall she hugged me before I opened the door.

She put so much emotion and feeling into those words. I think she had a silent suffering that she had hid from me and especially from Dad because she didn't want us to worry about her. She still tried so hard to be a good Mom regardless of how many times she had to go to the hospital for things she didn't remember.

The caring and sweetness from her in the car at that moment was so thick it was repulsive to me then.

So I ignored it then until I didn't care anymore.

I just tolerated her being weird then. Moms get to be weird like that. That's why they are Moms.

Then I would get out of the car and we would have gone shopping for shoes as if everything was normal.

And of course there were always new pairs of shoes to break in.

And we forgot our worries in the pleasant internal hum that came from shopping. Shopping can be your salvation if you don't have really any problems.

Mom did have problems though. I think now she had been forgetting things for a long time back then. She had been hiding her memory problems from us and trying to keep our house safely normal.

Then it sort of got nuked and we all know where that ended up at.

Later, much later when I was in New York.

Well.

You know how that story ended.

You've seen the actress that portrays me. I never had hair that perfect all the time in real life. And in a way hokey television is a kind of redemption.

On that television screen you're not as insecure or indecisive on television as you really were in real life.

And that becomes people's memory of you.

My memory is of word getting to me that Mom wasn't well but it was safe to visit. It was Mom who died first not Dad regardless of what you might think.

"You have to come home immediately Claire. Your mother needs to see you. It's safe." Dad said.

"But Dad, I have to save the world!" I said.

"Now Claire." He said.

And so I had to go.

I had to leave New York after all I had done there. It felt like I died in New York. Maybe I did but I just couldn't accept it then.

Peter flew me to where my parents were.

It was like I had the bones of an angel supporting me. He had a death grip on my upper arms and I could almost swear I could hear the bones of his wings creaking as we flew. Strange things happened sometimes without explanation after New York and I have learned not to stop and question them but get on with life.

Peter

I know that Nathan was my father but Noah is my father more. It's not so much biology but choice. I choose my Dad.

Not many girls can make that choice.

After we landed where my mother was PEter stayed outside. He didn't want to have another confrontation with Dad. Dad didn't either. And I didn't want to be stuck between them. So I went in.

Even if your Dad was a super villain like mine but he still loved you like mine you would still walk in fearlessly as I did like I did. Dad is fearless.

And in that way I am his daughter too.

Inside I stood at the edge of the place where my mother was and looked at her. She was still alive. She was dying.

I talked to her. I don't remember what I said now but I'm sure it wasn't Shakespeare. I hugged her. I didn't know what I should have felt then. I don't know what I should feel now.

It was horrible to see my adopted mother die. If I could have given her my powers to save her life I would have. Death was abnormal. Dying was strange.

I told myself.

Then.

"You're my miracle Claire." Mom repeated over and over. Her voice became fainter and I didn't understand what she was saying but she kept squeezing my hand lightly to let me know she was alive.

And then she didn't.


	2. Chapter 2

Her breathing slowed and she just stopped.

Just like that.

It was 2:48 P.M. My mother Sandra was dead.

Mom looked so confident and healthy when she was dead. All the worry and pain and fear and confusion just melted away.

And Mom went into death and I had to go on into our life after her death.

The Haitian once told me that when you forget to cry out your tears they become terrible seeds that grow wicked things in your heart and make it cold and lifeless like the inside of a poor man's freezer.

I didn't remember his words then but I remember them now as I write this.

There, by the side of my mother that was now dead I felt terrible depression.

Why? Why why why?! I asked myself as my eyes scrunched up.

I cried then. Dad held me and I felt safe once again in a way that I hadn't for such a long time.

My tears were on Dad's suit. It was one of his better ones too.

Dad must have known what I was thinking because he said-

"Don't worry Claire, it'll come out in the wash." Noah said.

I mumbled something that I don't remember now.

I do remember Mom made me. Maybe not inside her body but it was inside her life. Mom's care for me is what helped me to care for other people. Even risk myself for complete strangers. Even though I can never forget my loss I always realize that it was her and Dad that made the difference between me being a trashy Texan blonde and the hero I am now.

I changed my clothing and then it seemed only hours later we were burying her.

It was then that I fully realize that never again would I have long talks with Mom while we were driving somewhere. And I also knew to the core of what I was that never again would she have to say she wanted to be my friend. Mom was already was that and more within my heart and memories.

I miss my Mom but realize now that I am truly her Miracle. I would not be Claire Bennet without her love and care for me for all those years that I took her for granted. Odessa has only bad memories and people I care for too much to stay behind for. Dad needs Odessa but I need to grow up.

Even though I can no longer visit the home where we once lived I only have to remember my Mom to realize that I am my mothers child.

After the ceremony for her when Dad and me walked away from where Mom was buried we talked together.

"You'll always be in my heart Claire even if you are no longer by my side." Dad told me.

"I don't belong here anymore." I said to Dad. I had come back home wishing I felt like I belonged there but I realized I didn't anymore. The leaves and bits of things underneath my feet as we walked crackled and snapped like baby bones.

"I'll always love you Clairebear. You were born to be my daughter." I remember Dad telling me. We walked away from that place and naturally it began to rain.

We walked in the rain together. It spilled down over his umbrella and we talked about life and decisions.

Dad and I also talked about power. About how he let power corrupt him and how his love for me was his salvation.

Then too soon I had to go again. But not until I went to Odessa and had spontaneous I-love-you-forever-but-I-have-to-go-sex with Zach. And then I really and truly left that all behind.

A long time has passed by since I last talked with my Mom or Dad.

If I return to that life 'they' could try to control me.

I've tried so hard not to be controlled anymore.

And now something is about to happen. Something I'm going to make happen. Because if I don't make it happen one way that's good then it may change into something very bad.

And it may hurt me to do this but it will save so many lives.

I might die.

Living for something good and dying in the process is better then the alternative. Like living just to survive and waking up every morning knowing you died inside just a little bit more.

I've got an opportunity to do something. After I finish writing this I am going to go do it.

I'm tired of having my life planned, scheduled, and decided for me.

It's time for me to have an opportunity to finally be what I choose to be and not what I was born to be.

Regardless of how afraid I am.

My Grandmother once told me, "Even if we do have special powers we can still be alone in this life Claire. It's to us to do the best with what we have and realize in the end our fate isn't inevitable."

Hiro once told me, "You can run away Claire. And dye your hair brown for the next five years. Or you can save the world. Please, help me save the world!"

The Haitian once told me, "Fate isn't inevitability like tomorrow's first dawn. Fate is the road underneath your feet that you travel when you are doing the best with what you have."

I haven't conquered my fear.

I just don't let it conquer me anymore.

Destiny isn't inevitable I know now. It's a place you can go towards.

If you want it badly enough.

If.

And now I'm going to do something entire impulsive and unplanned. I'm not going to be the nice safe girl anymore. I'm going to start living my life and I'm not going to stop living it. It's time to stop running. I'm going to live life and bring it. I give myself permission to feel. My life is going to crack open and let in the sunlight. A little less depression and a bit more fire.

Life after death is breaking in.

Maybe being a hero is an exterior I can put on like a uniform.

But it's one I will never take off.


End file.
